


Passing Curiosity

by svecounia



Category: Cirque du Soleil - Fandom, Cirque du Soleil: KÀ
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 09:25:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8367031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/svecounia/pseuds/svecounia
Summary: The land and its people weave together, united by peace, and the Twin Sister resolves to pick and pluck at one errant thread that refuses to stay put.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Here's our cast, since the show leaves them nameless:
> 
> Twin Sister - Jimaya  
> Twin Brother - Omare  
> The Counselor - Yoren  
> Counselor's Son - Rensai  
> Chief Archer's Daugther - Yujin  
> Firefly Boy - Tsulemon  
> The Court Jester - Capo
> 
> This fic makes reference to [Blizzard](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7902415) and [Keeping the Flame](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8017243), which are good context but not necessary to read.

Jimaya wondered what he felt when she and her brother handed down their verdict, that Rensai and his father should be accepted into Imperial society after all the harm they had caused. No sentence, no imprisonment, no exile. The conflict they'd sparked had drawn together the people like never before, and though it obviously hadn't been their intent, there they stood for judgment before an audience of Imperialists, Mountain Folk, and Forest People alike, united as Jimaya had never seen them. She and Omare had already absolved the archers, spearmen, and their former chief. Had he not expected the same? Perhaps he didn't _want_ the same? Counselor Yoren bowed low in humble acceptance, but Rensai stood tall and rigid. His expression was difficult to read behind the blindfold, his lips hard at the corners, and he gripped his walking stick with force that whitened his knuckles. 

"Ingrate," Omare spat once the ceremony was over and the traitors were escorted away, and Capo snorted his agreement as he watched Rensai shrug off the guards' guiding hands with an angry snarl. At Omare's side, Yujin looked as uneasy as Jimaya felt, but neither of them spoke.

Jimaya wondered how Rensai and his father managed their treks to the mountain to retrieve their ore. They were under close watch at first, escorted by guards through the pass and across the crags to the den their people had once called home. But after several months without incident, they were permitted to go alone, inspected only as they came and went to ensure they weren't hoarding any of the dangerous, incendiary dust. The pair of them would set off at first light and return just after dark, and never once did she hear reports of them lingering where they shouldn't or returning with more than they were ordered to retrieve. Somehow the two men, one blind and the other aged, always made it back and forth just fine.

The coronation was a splendid shower of golden sparks and flares, it continued long into the night, and every time Jimaya thought the spectacle was surely over, another fountain of light seemed to erupt just behind her to wild cheers from the celebrants. Even Omare remarked in awe that he didn't think Rensai was capable of creating something so beautiful. She spotted Rensai just once at the end of the evening as he retreated from the square towards his cottage alone, and she felt a pang of pity that he wasn't able to see what he'd done. 

Jimaya wondered about his health when winter arrived. Rensai appeared in court as he did every so often, sometimes because he had been asked to present some design or another for an upcoming celebration, sometimes because he was bored, sometimes because she suspected he enjoyed the tension he brought to the room just by turning up unexpectedly. But he looked thinner this time, more worn, and a few days later she heard a wild tale about Omare and Capo having to go retrieve him after he had staggered out into a blizzard alone. She didn't know much about him, but she knew he was a self-preservationist, and she resolved to visit him in the weeks that followed. She doubted anyone else would bother. 

Predictably, she was greeted at his door with a sneer as soon as he realized who it was: his blindfold still shielded his healing eyes, and he gazed unsettlingly over her head as he stepped back to let her inside, giving her the distinct impression that she was about to be ambushed from behind. 

"No guards?" he remarked with a twisting smile. 

"You know I can fend you off, but let's hope it doesn't come to that," she returned evenly. "I'll just be careful not to eat or drink anything you offer me."

That elicited a raise of his eyebrows that she couldn't interpret, and when he closed the door with a deliberate, decisive snap, she did think inwardly that maybe it had been risky to come alone. But he didn't offer her anything and in fact he barely invited her to sit, waving absentmindedly in the general direction of a spare stool that was tucked under a scrubbed wooden table. 

His accommodations were meager but he didn't seem to care: he had what he needed and she supposed he couldn't see it anyway. It was dim, he hadn't lit a candle – why would he bother? – and something in her wouldn't allow herself the weakness of asking for one. He seemed aware of it and paused, awaiting her request with smug anticipation, but she refused him the satisfaction and settled for tense silence instead.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked at last. He remained standing, staff propped at his side, surely another show of intimidation to which she refused to rise. 

"I know no one looks in on you," Jimaya said sharply. She intended it to bite, but he didn't flinch. "You're worn."

Rensai snorted and knocked his walking stick against the only chair in the room to judge its distance, then settled himself down as well. "You Imperialists have a criminal amount of time on your hands. First the child emperor jaunts out into the snow to find me, and now his dear sister comes to tell me I'm looking _worn._ Don't you have an empire to shepherd or something?"

"Don't be rude, Rensai," she ordered and his eyebrows shot up again, this time in distinct amusement. "We absolved you and your father so you could make a new home here. You're my subjects now, too."

"Do you make house calls for every tired subject, _Jimaya?"_ The syllables of her name dripped like venom from his lips. "Or just the ones you think might agitate some kind of nasty insurrection?"

"The latter," she shot back, and he chuckled, leaning back in his chair.

"My father is ill," he said with an easy shrug. "It demands a certain amount of my time. If it bothers you, I'll endeavor to look hale and hearty the next time I visit your court. Will that please you?"

"It will." She lifted her chin grandly, and even if he couldn't see it, it made her feel stronger. "I shall send for a healer for him."

"He'll refuse. He is rather mistrustful of Imperialists, you see. Despite your generosity," he added with an unctuous smile, and she rolled her eyes.

But despite the constant barbs, Rensai turned out to be almost interesting company. He spoke easily about some topics, but not all – he refused to explain why he'd headed out into the blizzard nor his plans for the Winter Festival – and gave his opinion at every opportunity with decisive finality whether she'd asked for it or not. He was chronically casual, overtly ignoring any titles or honorifics she deserved, and antagonizing though he was, she was surprised to find it refreshing to be addressed like a peer, an equal, after months of adjusting to her new role. She noticed he took great pleasure in waving her out the door when she took her leave, as though she'd been a nuisance to him all along. 

She visited every other week or so thereafter. 

Jimaya wondered how he fared in the days that followed his father's death. She had been there when it happened, and quite by accident: Tsulemon had been kind enough to procure a restorative tea for Counselor Yoren, a favorite of the Forest People and an uncommon gesture of goodwill for their old enemy. She had been delivering another packet to the old man's cottage when death claimed him. 

She helped arrange the funeral but didn't attend herself. Whatever Rensai felt was appropriate didn't feel like it included her, and so she kept her distance – the funeral rites he was used to were different than those she knew, more reverent and reflective. Perhaps she'd granted him clemency, but she couldn't bring herself to attend such a service for the man who'd ordered the deaths of her own parents. The thought hardened her heart and left a bitter taste in her mouth for days. She didn't mourn.

Yujin confessed later that she had been there. Apparently it had been a rather piteous scene: Rensai had been all alone on the frigid, gray beach as he bid his father goodbye. No archers or spearmen dared attend for fear of appearing ungrateful to the society that had accepted them or uncaring towards the chief they had betrayed. Yujin's father, of course, refused to see off the man who had plotted against him for so long. But Yujin was kind, she knew the traditions as well as Rensai did, so she went, and Jimaya saw through her distaste enough to be grateful that someone was there for him. But she did speculate, privately, whether Yujin was a comfort to him or a further stab to his heart. 

Jimaya wondered if her visits were beginning to send a message she didn't intend: no one would dare criticize her in her presence, but guards whispered, servants chatted, and the fact was that she did make frequent trips to see to arguably the empire's most hated citizen – certainly Rensai held the title now that his father was gone. She dithered about asking Tsulemon one morning, busy tying her up her hair in the new spring fashion so as to appear as unconcerned as possible when she finally forced the words out, but he just laughed, kissed her, and promised he thought nothing of it.

Tsulemon wasn't nearly as wary as her brother was. He had never once questioned Jimaya's visits to Rensai, never once advised her to bring a guard along: he had total confidence in her ability and judgment, which was one of the things she loved most about him. There was an authoritative weight in her step that morning, she was boosted by his trust, and maybe she imagined it, but the people she passed seemed to bow deeper than usual.

Rensai never bowed to her. Or if he did, he did it in some sweeping, mocking gesture that bastardized the very word itself. Most times he opened the door and his blindfolded gaze pointed straight over her head as though it were too much trouble to face her properly. He'd jerk his head at her impatiently as if to say she'd just interrupted something important, and she would roll her eyes and set about making tea at the hearth. It was all but tradition at this point. 

But he wasn't blindfolded when he opened the door this time. A note of surprise escaped her before she could bite it back: she'd never seen him without it since his injury, and his lips twisted in a look of supreme smugness at her sound of shock. He'd clearly been imagining some kind of big reveal.

"Did you cut your hair?" she asked innocently, unable to resist. His smirk vanished on the spot. 

"Get inside," he growled, but she just laughed, breezed through the door, and indulged him for the hour that followed. He loved to talk about himself (though he did _not_ appreciate Jimaya pointing out how much he liked it) and for once she let him get on with it without a teasing word or interruption, listening as he explained how he'd begun to see shadows again, dim, shifting, indistinct, but unmistakable.

"You know, you're not seeing shadows," she told him just as she was taking her leave. "You're seeing light."

He rolled his eyes and they fell on her, surely by accident, but it still caught her unawares – she was so used to him staring blankly over her shoulder or head, his line of sight hidden by the usual strip of fabric. His eyes turned out to be as dark as she had expected.

Jimaya wondered who had been sparring with him lately. He was looking stronger, his thin frame sturdier than it had been in the months following his father's illness and closer to the warrior's shape he'd been in when they had met in battle. That felt so far away now, and even Omare had grown weary of coming up with creative insults whenever Rensai's name came up. He'd been pleasant enough company over the course of the year, and she hoped that wasn't just true for her – if his physique was any indication, someone had learned to tolerate him enough to train with him even with his vision still on the mend. Or, she thought, maybe someone just wanted an excuse to rough him up a bit under the pretense of practice. Still. 

This was a warmonger, a slaver, an enemy who might have put her brother to death if he hadn't been thwarted first. But he didn't look like any of those things as she watched him lay a long stringed instrument across his lap, bending over it and thumbing the strings lightly to test their tune. He tossed his hair out of his face and felt across the table for a box of powder rosin; it rose in the air and caught in the sunlight as he dusted his fingers.

Rensai laid his hands over the strings, frowning in thought for a moment, then lifted them again and began pulling his fingers down the strings in long, measured strokes. The sound he drew forth was unexpectedly mellow and resonant, it filled the room and touched Jimaya with a surprising tingle that raced across her skin. As he carried on, he seemed to grow more confident, and he sped up, sliding long fingers down the strings, reaching further, plucking here and there to change the tune. It was a song she didn't recognize – indeed, it was an instrument she didn't recognize, surely something from the mountain – but he obviously knew it by heart. 

Every so often he would pause, scowl, and begin a measure over again, and only a few times was Jimaya able to guess where which had been the wrong note. He didn't play for long: frustration got the better of him after a few minutes and he leaned back in his chair with an irritable shake of his head.

"I'm out of practice, it would be much better if I could see the strings properly."

"Well, maybe after another couple months or so," she offered, and he scoffed harmlessly.

"Perhaps."

Jimaya wondered what it might be like to wake up next to him. She hadn't meant to, and she was quick to reassure herself that she probably _definitely_ didn't give it any real consideration during waking hours. But she'd had a dream one night that woke her up warm and flushed, unable to fall back asleep, and she had pressed herself against Tsulemon until he woke too and drove all thoughts of Rensai far from her mind. 

But they came back. Just nagging, trivial little questions that picked at her brain on occasion in the early mornings. What his hair looked like when he first awoke. Whether he slept in or got up at the crack of dawn. How his wicked, mobile mouth might turn up if someone said his name just the right way. Whether the rest of him was as thoroughly tattooed as his chest, back, and arms. Usually at that point she stopped herself and forced herself to think of other things. Usually.

Maybe Yujin knew. Not that Jimaya would ever dare ask, she would never cast a shadow on Yujin's character nor give Omare reason to fret, no matter how long ago any sort of relationship might have existed. But by now Jimaya knew enough to be sure Rensai wouldn't pine so long for no reason. There was more to that story. But whatever might have been was long gone, and even Rensai himself seemed to respect that. 

Never once did she betray her curiosity. Never once did she blush or stammer or hesitate in front of him. Not when he delivered his plans for events, not when he deigned to show up at court, not when they chatted over shared tea during her visits. She lifted her chin and met his gaze as it strengthened, even when at last his sight returned to him fully and she knew that when his dark eyes met hers, he was truly seeing her. 

Jimaya wondered if he knew.

**Author's Note:**

> The Firefly Boy makes a forty-five second appearance but you can bet I spent a solid hour choosing a name. I wanted something that sounded as different as the Forest People look compared to everyone else in the show and eventually found it in the lyrics to his namesake song. 
> 
> Rensai's unnamed instrument is a reference to the [earth harp](http://www.earthharpsymphony.com/) installed in the entrance to the Ka theater, which the Counselor's Son character is occasionally assigned to play during the pre-show.


End file.
